I Always Meant It
by Selphie Leonhart
Summary: Dagger considers if Zidane really loves her.


I Alway Meant It ****

I Alway Meant It

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By Selphie Leonhart

Dagger took a step back from the telescope. Walking to the edge of the balcony, she rested her elbows on the edge and stared out at the beautiful landscape. It was a clear day, the sky a searing blue, not a cloud in sight. Perfect for gazing across the countryside, and there was a promise of a clear night ahead where the stars would seem close enough to touch. It was so peaceful, so warm and balmy and comforting...

If only she could get him off her mind.

She turned, checked there were no guards around, and then pulled herself up onto the low stone wall. Sitting up there gave her an exhilarating feeling, the wind seemed stronger, seemed to support her, and the way her hair whipped her face brought a sharp rise of blood to her cheeks.

"Zidane, Zidane, Zidane...." she murmured, shutting her dark eyes against the dusty breeze. It was nothing new, she thought to herself. She had always know it was in his character. It gave her an uncomfortable feeling, like a stone had settled in her stomach and refused to budge. The heaviness did not suit her, she needed her emotions to be free and unchained. It made her squirm. Sighing at her own discomfort, Dagger opened her eyes again in an attempt to gain clarity.

"He's a flirt. He always has been. He doesn't mean anything by it."

She said aloud. The words were snatched by the wind and seemed muted. But they helped her all the same. So what? Dagger thought. He was like this before he met me. He was like this when he was trying to win me. He was like this when he said he loved me. It's just his character...those other women mean nothing to him....

Oh, but did they? When he gave those looks, when he listened to their problems, to their stories, when he showed such avid interest and promised they must do this again, what was he thinking? Was it only a character trait...or was he trying to replace her? Was he interested? Could he love them? It made her ache, it made the tears fall, it made her long for someone to love her and her alone. Maybe Zidane was incapable of that...maybe he needed the love and adoration of others. Or maybe he felt she wasn't worthy to receive his love exclusively. Whatever it was...it hurt. It caused a deep void insider her, it caused a physical longing for something she didn't know how to get.

Dagger wanted to be free of this. It was so beauitful up there, the air so cool and balmy. She leant back, imagining how she must look with the wind streaming her glossy hair behind her. Spreading her arms, she felt like she was soaring high, supported on the warm evening air. She could fly...she could fly away...

"Dagger!"

Opening her eyes in unwelcome surprise, she grasped the wall, clutching so hard she could feel the grit under her fingertips. She didn't turn, but remained still as a statue. In a daze she felt warm arms encirling her waist, felt herself pulled away from the edge by someone strong and masculine. She felt her feet touch the ground, her arms being grasped. She opened her eyes.

Zidane met her liquid brown eyes with his own. Loosening his grip on her arms he shook her gently. 

"What were you doing?" he asked, his voice shaken, but gentle. Dagger didn't reply. Over and over she thought....what makes me special to him? Why, out of all the girls does he choose me? The thought should have made her feel better, but it only emphasised her insecurity. If love came so easily to him, it could leave just as soon, and be replaced in an instant. 

"Please Dagger...." Zidane said softly. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, running his finger down her cheek before using it to push her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze once more. Why did he care? It was so easy for him. She never gave her heart without careful consideration...in fact, she never had before. Her first love. The trust was new, the heart unscathed, fresh and tender. Unbroken. A trust which had taken a long time to fall into place, the pieces laboriously put together with gentle words and intimate moments. If that was lost...

She spoke. 

"You're hurting me." she whispered. Her voice seemed empty, like a shell or a dry husk of wheat. Zidane recoiled from her as if he had been burnt, wondering if she meant physically. 

"How?" he asked. The gentleness in his voice was the key to the floodgates. Her breath became hot and damp as she drew in the oxygen, her voice ragged with supressed tears, her eyes shining wetly.

"You..." she whispered. The words wouldn't come. The hurt was too much, the betrayal she felt too real. "I can't take this...all this..." she said, trying to force the emotion out of her voice. Zidane wrapped his arms around her small frame, pulling her close to him. Unspeaking, she allowed him to.

She felt fragile to him...delicate and weak. He knew she wasn't though. Now, he thought, was not the time to discuss this. He had an inkling of what was wrong from the earlier events...Dagger walking out of the dinner they had been enjoying when he told the waitress how pretty her smile was. How could he make her realise none of that was real?

"Dagger..." he whispered. She stilled in his arms, and he knew she was listening. He could feel her breath hot on his shoulder, could feel her cheek feverishly warm against his neck.

"I love you..." he said softly. Dagger didn't react. For an instant, Zidane felt panic. Then she drew away from him gently. 

"Love me alone. Let me be yours exclusively." She said in her clear voice. Her eyes, although wet with tears, were bright in their intensity. Zidane looked at her in confusion, opened his mouth to speak but his heart held him back. 

" I...I can't..." he admitted, with pain in his voice which sounded like defeat. Dagger's eyes shone with something like triumph. 

"I know." She said. Turning sharply, she began running lightly over to the stone steps, her dark hair flowing behind her. At the top step, she turned and looked at him, a half smile on her face.

"I love you Zidane." she said. Then she left. He could hear her steps echoing on the stone walls, and in his mind could imagine her as she fled from him.

"I love you..." he murmured to himself, turning back to the balcony. He knew why she said it. To let him know what he had lost. To make sure he would realise, and regret what he had done. He let out a moan of despair, a cry which reached to the stars glittering above him, beautiful and radiant in their sparkling, beings which had once comforted him when he was alone and confused.

Now they only mocked him.

**

http://pub10.ezboard.com/bselphiechan


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